


Will you be my home?

by thewolvescalledmehome



Series: Home [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: Jon proposes.Part 6 of the Home series.





	Will you be my home?

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO SORRY that this has taken me so long. I promise it won't be almost year until the next one.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, there is a time jump between the last one and this one (about 4 years--they're both graduated and have moved back to Winterfell to settle down).

**Sansa**

“Don’t forget—I’m going to be home late tonight. I’m going out with the department for a few drinks,” Sansa reminded Jon, pouring coffee into two travel mugs.

“I’ll pick up some pizza or something on my way home then.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tonight,” she said, passing him his mug of coffee. “I love you,” she added with a quick kiss.

“Have a good day at work. Love you too,” she heard as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Sansa, and the other two art teachers, Mya and Alys, were out celebrating the start of winter break. It had been a long week and an even longer first semester. Both the break and the drinks were a welcomed end to the day.

“What’s Jon doing tonight?” Mya asked after they moved on from complaining about students, administration, and work in general.

“He’s working on some new exhibit that the museum is going to be showing next month.”

“What does he do for the museum?”

“He mostly writes those little explanations that go on the plaques, but sometimes he gets to study artifacts for authenticity,” Sansa explained to Alys. She knew it was a hard job to explain. Usually when she said he worked at the museum people thought that he gave tours.

“So is that what he wants to do? Like an archeologist?”

“No, no. He’s working on his PhD right now. He wants to be a history professor for University of Winterfell.”

“Oh, that’s cool. But, wait, so, how long have you been together?” Alys asked.

“Oh, just wait ‘til you hear,” Mya muttered, cracking a peanut shell open.

“Almost five years,” Sansa answered with her usual amount of reluctance. People tended to have a specific response when she said _five years_ —though that response started about two years ago.

“ _Five years_?” Alys repeated, sounding scandalized.

“It’ll be five years in March.”

“And… you’re not… engaged?”

“No, they are not,” Mya supplied for her.

“Are you waiting for something? Or do you not believe in marriage…?”

“No, no, we definitely want to get married. I figured he’s probably waiting until he gets his PhD,” Sansa shrugged. At least that was the excuse she gave to everyone. And she did believe it. That it was part of it, at least. But Sansa was also convinced there was another part. A deeper part.

The last time Jon had proposed to someone that person had broken up with him.

As much as Sansa fought to remove the after affects of Jon and Ygritte’s relationship that was something she had no idea how to fix.

“See, what I don’t understand is why don’t you just propose to him,” Mya commented. “You could still wait until he gets his PhD to get married.”

Sansa shrugged again. She hadn’t really thought about it, but the few times she had, usually after Mya’s said something, something about it didn’t feel right. She didn’t want to take that opportunity away from Jon. She doubted Mya would fully understand that though.

Sansa was saved by having to say anything though, by the waiter bringing over a flight of shots.

“Oh, we didn’t order these,” Sansa said immediately.

“They’re from that table over there. They said to say ‘happy winter break.’”

They looked over to the table the waiter had indicated to. It was a handful of teachers from the English department, each of whom also a held a shot. Laughing, Sansa picked up the glass and raised it toward them before downing it.

* * *

“Sansa? Are you okay?” Jon answered when she called a few hours later.

“’M fine. Just can’t drive. Can you pick me up?”

Sansa scowled at how Jon laughed on the other end.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, love.”

“No problem. See you soon, darling.”

Sansa waited in the warmth of her car while waiting to see Jon pull into the parking lot of the pub. They had ended up joining the English department and taking a few more shots, which was far more than Sansa had been planning on drinking.

Even though the conversation moved away from her and Jon’s relationship after the shots started, Mya’s comments still filled her thoughts.

They were getting to a point where getting engaged would make sense, she thought. They both had secure jobs, and while Jon was still working on his PhD, he only had a year left. They had moved back to Winterfell, where both of them wanted to settle down. They were renting a house now, not an apartment. They were real adults.

 _Why the hell aren’t we engaged?_ Sansa thought, leaning back against the headrest.

The knocking on her window startled her out of her thoughts. Jon grinned at her from the other side of the glass.

“Thought you were going out for a few drinks,” Jon commented as she stepped out.

“The English department bought us a few rounds of shots.”

“Those damn English teachers,” Jon joked, helping her across the icy car park and into his car.

“They’ve got worse stories than we do. They _needed_ those shots.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

Sansa glanced at him, wondering if she should bring up what Mya and Alys said, but she wasn’t drunk enough for that.

Maybe if she had another drink or two, she’d have enough courage to mention that they’d been together for almost five years and she’d like to be engaged to him sooner rather than later.

* * *

**Jon**

Jon couldn’t help but laugh at Sansa’s state. When they got home, she immediately grabbed a bottle from the fridge and a slice of the pizza he’d stuck in the microwave when he’d left, and plopped down on the couch.

She was tipsy in a way he hadn’t seen her since Robb and Jeyne’s wedding last year. It was the cute tipsy where she usually ended up dancing around the room to no music and smiling and giggling at everything. Jon found it adorable, the same way he had when they went out to the Wolf’s Crown five years ago. Except then he never would’ve admitted that she was adorable the way he could now.

“You’re adorable,” he said out loud, because he could, and because she was. She grinned at him from the sofa, where she’d stretched out with her laptop after devouring several slices of pizza.

“ _You’re_ adorable.”

Jon just smiled at her again before walking into the kitchen to grab a second beer.

“Hey, Jon?” she called from the living room.

“Yeah?” Jon pulled the bottle opener off the fridge and popped the top off.

“Ever heard of the expression _shit or get off the pot_?”

Jon nearly choked on the sip of beer he’d just taken. His eyes watered as he struggled to swallow without coughing and giving away his reaction.

“ _What_?” He was sure he heard her wrong.

“It’s just something Mya said,” she responded calmly.

“She said to shit or get off the pot? Do I want to know?”

Jon struggled to figure out where this conversation was going. He was pretty sure even without the beer in his system he’d still have no idea what she was talking about.

“She said it in reference to us.”

“Sansa, darling, I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

To his utter surprise, she started singing a Beyoncé song.

“ _If ya like it you should put a ring on it._ ”

Jon’s first thought was that those weren’t quite the lyrics to the song, but that was quickly overshadowed by what she was saying.

He set the bottle he’d been holding on the counter a little more heavily than he intended in his hurry to get to the living room. Sansa was focused on whatever she was watching, as if she hadn’t just said. He would’ve thought he imagined it if she hadn’t been humming same song under her breath.

“Sansa?” he asked quietly, sitting on the coffee table near her head.

“Hmm?”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Jon was surprised at how calm his voice sounded, given that he could feel his heartbeat in his teeth and it was pounding as if he’d just sprinted the length of the old Wall from Eastwatch to Shadowtower.

“I dunno. What do you think I’m saying?” she responded coyly, glancing at him. He cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to admit what she meant. He needed to hear her actually say it. He waited for her to say something, anything, but she just started singing that song again.

“Mhmm, all right,” he muttered to himself, pushing up off the coffee table and returning to the kitchen for his beer.

When he sat back down in his armchair with his book he’d been reading before he’d gotten up, his thoughts were filled with Sansa and that damn song.

* * *

The next morning Jon woke up with Beyoncé stuck in his head. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t dreamed it. He wanted to bring it up to Sansa, but he didn’t know how. He looked over at her sleeping form, curled next to him. Her red hair was covering most of the pillow. He found himself smiling at the image—at the warmth he felt that had nothing to do with the blankets covering him or the dogs lying on top of his feet at the bottom of the bed. 

Sansa moved in her sleep, her left hand landing on his chest. Jon immediately imagined a ring on her fourth finger and felt his heart beating faster again, warmth spreading through him.

He shook his head, clearing the image from his mind.

Her comments last night didn’t mean that she was sure, that she was ready. If she couldn’t say it, even when drunk, she obviously wasn’t ready to marry him.

Even if he was.

Even if he had been for years.

* * *

That night they rented a romantic comedy that had a wedding scene. They’d picked it out before the almost conversation they’d had the night before.

Jon paid close attention to Sansa throughout the scene without making it seem like he was watching her. He wanted to see if she’d bring up what she had mentioned last night. She hadn’t said anything about it all day and he thought this would give her a good opportunity.

But the scene ended and the plot continued and she didn’t say anything. Jon tried not to feel disappointed, but he was. He’d been waiting for a sign from her to know that she was ready.

Jon was ejecting the disc when Sansa spoke up behind him.

“I really hope our wedding doesn’t have that much drama,” she mentioned. Jon forced himself not to whip around and demand that she repeat what she said.

“Yeah,” he muttered, trying to seem calm.

“And I really like that song that played when she walked down the aisle. We should use it for our first dance or something.”

“Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that’d be a good first dance song,” he agreed, still trying to be as nonchalant as she was.

“Could you believe that scene?” Sansa asked, clearly moving on from the idea of their wedding.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief. He could stop pretending to fiddle with the case and face her. He got his emotions under control. He wasn’t grinning ear to ear anymore.

-

Jon slid quietly out of bed, trying not to wake Sansa. He couldn’t have her wake up. She couldn’t see what he was going to do.

In the closet, Jon dug his blazer out from the back where they shoved all the clothes they rarely wore. From the breast pocket he removed the small black box he’d hidden there soon after they started renting the house, after he started his PhD program and Sansa got her job at the high school.

He hadn’t moved it since he’d hidden it there, with the exception of when he had to wear the jacket to Robb and Jeyne’s wedding. He hadn’t opened the box since he’d bought it though. He was waiting until he knew she was ready.

Jon snapped the box open and saw the ring for the first time since he bought it. It was a silver band with a branch and leaf pattern that reminded him of a Weirwood tree. In the center was a single diamond. It wasn’t very big but it was sparkly. Arya had assured him when he was looking that Sansa wouldn’t want something big and flashy anyway. She’d want something unique and more personal. She’d care more about the design of the band than the diamond.

Jon studied the ring, the one he’d imagined on her finger yesterday morning, smiling like an idiot.

He’d finally get to see it on her.

* * *

**Sansa**

“Can you please talk to Mum?” Arya asked by way of greeting when she opened the door. Sansa and Jon were still standing outside in the bitter cold on Christmas Eve and Arya was already begging favors off them.

“Nice to see you too. Talk to Mum about what?”

“She said Gendry has to sleep in the guest room,” Arya complained.

Sansa opened her mouth, about to argue that Jon had slept in the guest room for the last several Christmases and it didn’t hurt him any, but then she realized what Arya’s comment implied.

“If Gendry’s sleeping in the guest room, then where’s Jon sleeping?”

This produced what Sansa thought was a highly overdramatic sigh.

“ _Apparently_ because you’ve been together so long, and because you’re so old, Mum and Dad no longer have a problem with Jon sleeping in your room,” she huffed.

“Really?” Sansa asked, grin stretched wide.

“What?” Jon asked behind her.

“I know. Gendry and I started dating only a few months after you.”

“Okay, but Jon and I do live together, and have for years,” Sansa pointed out. It was an argument she’d made every year at this time but it had never worked.

“So do Gendry and I,” Arya muttered.

“Yeah, but you lot haven’t told anyone yet,” Jon reminded, causing Arya to release another aggravated sigh.

“That was Gendry’s idea, not mine. I told him it was stupid.”

“Okay, well I haven’t been successful in them letting Jon stay in my room, why do you think I’d be able to help Gendry? Also, can we please move out of the doorway?”

Arya rolled her eyes but let them pass.

“Well, we’re going to go put our bags in _our_ room,” Sansa said, grabbing Jon’s hand and dragging him upstairs before Catelyn or anyone came over and said, _actually Jon and Gendry can share the guest room_.

“Wait, so I’m not in the guest room?” Jon asked once they were in her room.

“Guess not. Gendry used to come over in the morning and spend Christmas Eve with Shireen, but I think Arya said they’re on vacation or something.”

Sansa paused halfway to the bathroom, where she was headed to put their toiletry bags, when she noticed the stricken look on his face.

“Do you feel weird sleeping in here? Do you want to hear it from my parents?” she asked, because she knew he had mentioned it in the past.

“What? Oh, no, no, it’s fine. Sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“You don’t look alright,” Sansa said slowly, even as a noticeable blush washed over his face.

“I was just remembering the first time I was in here. It was after that camping trip Robb and I took? You let me use your shower.”

“Oh! I almost forgot about that. I was sure you didn’t like me then,” she admitted softly.

They’d rarely talked about that first month Jon had stayed with them, and if they did it was mostly to tell the Secret Santa story and how she’d made the map. She never admitted the little crush she’d formed.

“What? Why?”

Sansa shrugged.

“You just always seemed awkward when I was around—”

“I was always awkward,” Jon interjected.

“No, but it felt like more. Like you were uncomfortable around me.”

“I afraid of you,” Jon said, voice far quieter than hers had been.

“Afraid? Of me?” she asked, skeptical.

“When I first saw you waiting for Robb, I thought you were going to be a lot more like Margaery.” Sansa raised her eyebrows, waiting for more of an explanation. “High maintenance.”

“I— _really_? Why?”

“You had on this nice coat, and your nails were done. I dunno.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“I was quickly proven wrong,” Jon added, a soft grin on his face. Sansa felt her skin warm and her heart kick up a notch, just from his fond gaze.

“Yeah? Well, I was dead right about you,” she murmured, moving to stand between his legs and brushing a curl out of his face. Sansa leaned down, her hand tracing from his temple to cradle his jaw.

The bag of a fist on her door stopped her short from kissing him.

“Mum wants you downstairs! We’re going to set the table!” Arya called.

“Alright!” Sansa called back.

“Now!”

“She’s so obnoxious,” she muttered to Jon, dropping her forehead down to his.

“She’s just upset about the sleeping arrangements.”

“Like she won’t be sneaking into the guest room once everyone’s gone to bed.”

“You say that like you didn’t try to talk me into the exact same thing more than once,” Jon pointed out. Sansa didn’t have a response to that.

* * *

Sansa woke up to the feeling of Jon moving out from beneath her leg and arm.

“Hmm? Time is it?” she mumbled, grasping for him still.

“A little after two. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

She drifted back off to sleep, arm and leg still thrown into the space where Jon had been.

She woke back up what felt like only seconds later when she heard whispering in the hallway.

“Jon?” she whispered, half sitting up. The door creaked open then, Jon slipping in. “Who were you talking to?”

“Gendry—just passed him on the way from the bathroom.”

“Oh,” she breathed, settling back down and wrapping her arm and leg around him again.

The fact that she had a bathroom attached to her room didn’t register until morning.

* * *

Once the presents were opened and the wrapping paper collected in a trash bag, Sansa stood, ready to follow Catelyn and Ned to the kitchen to help with breakfast, the way she did every Christmas morning.

“No, it’s okay, we’ve got it,” Ned said, stopping her.

“Are you sure?” Sansa asked. She helped every year.

“Yep,” Ned clipped, motioning for her to sit back down.

“Hey, let’s go test this outside,” Robb said, picking up the drone toy Rickon had gotten. Rickon eagerly scrambled up and took off for the backyard with the drone. Bran, Robb, and Jeyne followed after him, leaving just her, Jon, Arya, and Gendry in the living room. 

 “We should go see if your need parents help,” Gendry said then, holding a hand out to Arya.

“What? Why? Dad literally just told Sansa not to help.”

“Well, let’s go check.”

“Why?”

“What’s happening?” Sansa whispered to Jon, watching Gendry and Arya. She felt Jon’s shoulders move in a shrug.

“Just. Come on.”

“Not until you tell me why.”

“You really are impossible, you know that?” Sansa heard Gendry mutter before he crouched down and picked Arya up. Sansa busted out laughing.

“This is SO unfair,” Arya yelled as Gendry carted her out.

“Um,” Sansa muttered, confused. Why had everyone suddenly cleared out?

“Hey, I think you missed one,” Jon noticed, feeling her stocking.

“Oh, did I?”

Thinking it a piece of candy, Sansa stuck her hand in, expecting to grab a small foil wrapped piece. Instead her fingers landed on velvet. Her eyes flew to Jon’s immediately.

“Jon…” she said slowly, her breath coming in shorter bursts. She pulled the box from her stocking and snapped the lid open. “Oh, Jon…” she breathed.

The most beautiful ring winked up at her.

Her vision was blury, but she felt the calluses of Jon’s hands slide against her soft ones as he wrapped his hands around hers.

“Sansa,” Jon started, voice sounding just as choked with emotion as she imagined hers would be if she tried to speak right now. “Before you I was lost. I was cold. I didn’t know anything about love—about real love. I never thought I would be as happy as I am now. I never thought agreeing to spend the holidays with someone would change my entire life, but it did.” His voice got stronger as he spoke, but Sansa’s vision got worse. She was sure she was going to sob and ruin the moment. “I told Arya once that you were the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family, a home, and that’s the best way I can describe what I feel when I’m with you—like I’m home. It’s a feeling I never want to lose… So, Sansa Stark, will you be my home, my family? Will you marry me?”

Sansa dropped the box with the ring forgotten as she tackled him into a hug.

“Of course, I’ll marry you!” she cried, kissing him through her tears. She felt Jon’s arms wrap tightly around her and she could feel how fast his heart was beating. She held him tighter, nuzzling her face into his neck, until both of them got their emotions under control.

“I love you,” he murmured, pulling away just enough for her to see how damp his eyes were.

“I love you,” she answered, kissing him soft and slow.

“Ahem,” came from the doorway and Sansa turned to see her entire family gathered in the doorway with beaming smiles.

“Well, put the ring on, then!” Jeyne exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Sansa giggled, pulling fully away from Jon and picking up the box from where she’d dropped it.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, looking at it for the first time.

“You like it?” he asked, and Sansa could hear the slightest undercurrent of shyness in his voice.

“I love it. I’d love anything you picked out. But, yes. It’s perfect,” she gushed. “Do you…?”

Sansa offered him the ring box. She saw how his fingers trembled as he drew the ring out of the box and slid it onto her fourth finger. It fit perfectly.

It was all she could do not to start crying again.

* * *

**Jon**

For the rest of the day, Jon had to consciously keep himself from staring at the way the ring sat on her finger. He had to ignore the tremendous thrill that went through him every time he saw his ring on her. It also didn’t help that she happened to be wearing his old hoodie from university—the Night’s Watch one that had _SNOW_ on the back.

He couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming.

_She said yes._

Rationally, he knew she would. He knew Sansa wanted him, loved him, would spend the rest of her life with him, but even as he was saying the speech he’d prepared, a small part of his brain kept replaying the last time he proposed to someone.

That time had been so different—he’d been so nervous he’d thrown up before. They were out to dinner. He didn’t have a ring, though he promised to get her one as soon as they could afford it. He said they should make their own family, since neither of them had their own.

And she laughed and she said that she didn’t want a family. Why would she want to tie herself down? Why would she surrender all the freedom that came with being a foundling? Why would she marry him when then she would just become someone’s wife and mother instead of just being herself?

She said if that’s what he was looking for, he was looking for it in the wrong girl.

She put down enough to cover her half of the bill. Said she’d be around to clear her stuff out, and left.

He had thrown up after too.

Jon shook his head, forcing the memory out.

Instead, he turned from where he’d been lying on his back so that he was facing Sansa. She was sound asleep, oblivious to the chaos in his head.

Her hand rested on the mattress between them, and he could just make out the shape of the ring in the dark. Jon reached out, fingers tracing the band of the ring, feeling both the metal of the band and the softness of her skin.

He was fine. He was with Sansa.

He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> The next one will be their wedding.
> 
> In other news, just like Jon and Sansa in this update, I am also engaged! (Yay!)


End file.
